


How They Wake Up In the Morning, or Do They Actually Even Sleep—the You Need Sleep Job

by crayonbreakygal



Category: Leverage
Genre: Alcohol, Drama, F/M, Multi, Sleep, Sleep Deprivation, not sleeping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-06
Updated: 2018-08-06
Packaged: 2019-06-22 17:01:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,693
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15586551
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crayonbreakygal/pseuds/crayonbreakygal
Summary: Did any of them ever sleep like a normal person? Takes place after The Cross My Heart Job, season four





	How They Wake Up In the Morning, or Do They Actually Even Sleep—the You Need Sleep Job

**Author's Note:**

> I've always had sleep issues, not being able to sleep at normal times. I can't even imagine how the team sleeps with all the issues that all of them have. We all know there are times where Hardison is awake for days at a time. Eliot only sleeps ninety minutes (I call bullshit on that one). Nate probably has nightmares. I seriously need to get other fics done but this one popped out of nowhere. Enjoy!

How They Wake Up In the Morning, or Do They Actually Even Sleep—the You Need Sleep Job

Takes place after The Cross My Heart Job, season four

 

Hardison was not a morning person.  Never was.  Spending all night fighting orcs or spending all night diving deep into the dark web, it didn’t matter to him. He was working on all cylinders, which had started to slow down to a crawl.  His mind would race, race, until it was time for calm. He’d done this for years.  He could go for days without much sleep.  Having his favorite orange soda by his side, he could take down governments in the time it took people to eat their damn breakfast. 

Today was no different. Nate had asked him for the damn information, he was going to deliver the damn information, sleep be damned. That’s a lot of damns for literally the first day on this particular job, but whatever.  A challenge was a challenge.  He’d have all the information printed, collated, and ready for consumption.  Then he could sleep. Unless Nate wanted something else. He always wanted something else.

All he asked was for people to acknowledge his space, what he could do and did every single damn day for them.  He’d keep them informed, safe, and ready to take on the world.

That was his morning routine during a case. Sleep could always come later.

 

Sleep?  What was that? She’d sleep when she felt safe, which wasn’t very often.  Parker could live on no sleep until it caught up with her. Then she could crawl into a ventilation shaft and really catch some shuteye.

Waking up that morning, she understood that this case could possibly be a difficult one.  Sophie had warned her.  Eliot had eyeballed her.  Hardison had sighed a few sighs, then had rolled his eyes to carry the point home.  Nate said nothing, pouring himself another drink.  That meant he’d be either be super drunk or super hung over that morning.

Her daily routine consisted of checking her perimeter, rechecking her perimeter, crunching on some cereal, making sure everything was secure, then making her way to Nate’s apartment. She could drop in on them when she felt like it.  They could never figure out how she entered and exited.  Sometimes it gave her a chuckle when she’d just appear over their shoulders.  Eliot had given up on startling, but she could still get the rest of them on occasion. 

Then she would wait for breakfast. Eliot always, always made them something fortifying right before they went into battle.  That’s what he called it, battle, except he never said those exact words. 

The sugar she’d down before getting to Nate’s place would help her get through the day once the con started.  She could sleep in an air vent or upside down, catch a catnap and be ready to go on a moment’s notice. Who needed sleep when there were bad guys to catch, safes to be broken into, marks to be gloated into submission.  Could someone gloat someone to death?  She’d have to ask Nate when he wasn’t super drunk.  She never asked him questions when he was super hung over. She’d let Sophie handle that issue.

Standing directly behind Hardison, she breathed deep, realizing that was a mistake because Hardison must have been there all day and night. He smelled like orange soda. She still couldn’t figure out whether she liked that or not. It was an acquired smell.

Eliot clanked around the kitchen like he’d kill anyone who entered before he was ready.  Nate was nowhere to be seen.  Must be super hung over.  Sophie would make her entrance when she was damn well ready.

 

Eliot always told the joke that he only slept ninety minutes a day. Too much to do, little time to do it.  No one understood the reason why he slept so little.  If he slept more, then he’d dream more. No one had time for dreaming the way he dreamed. 

He’d stay awake, work out, keep tabs on all his enemies, go over the next job, and literally survive on no sleep.  He’d crash once the job was over, sleeping the sleep of the dead.  The dreams would stay away when he was exhausted. He never wanted his team to see when he woke up though.  It wasn’t pretty.

So he cooked, and occasionally cleaned because his team were damn pigs.  Keeping them running on fuel had taken on a life of its own.  First it was breakfast, to get them moving. Then it was dinner, to go over cons, to plan for the next day. It had become his damn job, in addition to keeping them safe.  That job kept him up at night, trying to make sure no one died, no one was hurt, everyone was safe.

He cooked.  He growled. He made sure they each knew he was there just in case. It was exhausting mentally.  He wouldn’t trade it for anything else.

As he whipped the eggs, he wondered where everyone else was.  Hardison had fallen asleep at the computer, head cushioned with his sweater.  Parker would appear without a sound right by his side. He was always startled, but had learned that it was better to not react. Then she’d maybe trust him to be there for her no matter what.  Sophie would float in whenever she felt like it, dressed to kill, literally. She definitely was not an early morning person.

Nate, on the other hand, would be hung over.  Last night, Eliot could tell, was gonna be a rough one for their mastermind.  Maybe it was some kind of anniversary, birthday he didn’t want to remember. It was hit or miss with the man. One moment he’d be on point, ready to take down their mark with the snap of his fingers. Other days, he’d been three sheets to the wind, bottle down to empty. Eliot wondered what day this would be?

 

Sophie sat at her dressing table, attempting to figure out how to take the puffiness from under her eyes. It had been a bad night, a very bad night.  An argument, another argument, a bottle being drank, then thrown in anger.  She wondered how she had even gotten any sleep the night before. 

Nate had come over to her place, eyes rimmed red, bottle in hand.  Luckily, he had taken a taxi because if he’d driven, which he sometimes did when drunk, she would have taken a pound of flesh and then some.  He was itching for a fight, about what she had no idea. 

She needed her beauty sleep, which she often did not get.  After this job, she’d sleep, to catch up. Until then, fake it until you make it.  Her wet hair hung down limply, face splotchy and red. She looked like a train wreck.

Nate didn’t care about sleep, but she most certainly did.  In those early days, she had refused to come into the office before ten.  They’d kept to that schedule even now, unless there was a client in need.  One job turned into two which turned into more clients than they could help.  Nate would pick and choose and agonize over not helping everyone.  It had been fun and fulfilling.  Until Nate had decided he had enough, leaving them after taking Blackpoole down. His job was done, or so he thought.

Rejoining was the only option, until she couldn’t take it anymore.  Finding herself had been easy. Finding Nate had been more difficult. He said he needed her. Did she need him?

Last night had been a breaking point, a point where she contemplated leaving again, until she realized what was wrong. The date had popped into her head. She put two and two together.  Hence the little sleep option. 

She gathered that she was the one who got the most sleep out of all of them.  Sometimes it came naturally. She was just tired after grifting her way through whatever scenario Nate had cooked up.  Her mind and body would just shut down. Sometimes she’d take something to help her sleep.  Her dreams were vivid when she took something, so she’d try to not do that unless necessary. 

Last night she couldn’t take anything. Alcohol, copious amounts, did not mix well with sleep aids.  She’d have to function on a few hours of shuteye. 

Her muscles ached from the night’s activities. Often when she and Nate got into it, fought about whatever the subject was, her whole body would ache the next day.  He was never physical with her, but her mind would take a battering.  Luckily it didn’t happen very often, or she would have left a long time ago. 

Last night was an exception though.  He was suffering, in more ways than one.  This anniversary, the day that Nate’s son had died, had been especially poignant this year.  He would have been a teenager.  Nate would never get to see his son grow up.

Ever since that job at the airport, Nate had been more connected with her, but at the same time crazed to get things done, like he was on a clock.  She kept telling him he couldn’t save everyone, only the ones they could handle. On top of all of that, they had Latimer hot on their tails.

He had suddenly left just as quickly as he’d shown up.  Was it possibly because she started to ask what was wrong?  He had started to tell her, to open up to her, then bolted after starting an argument. The argument was just a smokescreen.  Nate Ford did not do feelings, just as he did not sleep unless inebriated.  Last night was no exception. 

He was actually getting better at not picking fights with her. His drinking binges had gotten lesser and lesser. He was doing better, until this anniversary. She just wondered if he did sleep after abandoning her.

 

The room spun a little when he opened his eyes.  His stomach, while empty of contents now, felt like it was doing flips on the inside.  Reaching for the bedside table, he felt for the aspirin bottle instead of turning on a light. The drapes were tightly closed against the morning light. Or was it afternoon? He was too lazy to find his phone. Who knew where it was.

Rolling over, he grabbed the half empty water bottle that sat beside the medicine.  He downed four aspirin quickly, hoping that they didn’t make a reappearance.  Being hung over today, of all days, hadn’t been in the plan. They were starting a new job. He was supposed to be at the top of his game.

Only his game was left in that empty bottle, or bottles if his squinting eyesight was right.  Two empties sat side by side. How could he have drunk that much without alcohol poisoning?  Something had to give.

Glancing at the bedside clock, it said that it was a little after ten am.  So maybe he slept a few hours.  Coming back after arguing with Sophie, he thought that he may have downed another half bottle before passing out.  He had avoided Hardison, which was easy since the man was rummaging through his refrigerator when he entered.  Hardison usually avoided him when he was like this, so it wasn’t that challenging. The other two were nowhere to be found.

As he squeezed his eyes shut to avoid the sliver of light that shown through the curtains, he thought back to the fight he had with Sophie.  It was trivial at best, stupid at worst.  He’d blown it, yet again.  He did wonder if she knew what day it was, probing his feelings as she did. Nate really wished she hadn’t done that.  Sometimes she could push until he needed to respond.  He would just have to learn how to respond in a different way.  It wasn’t solving anything.

Gingerly getting up off the bed, he steadied himself before taking a step. He didn’t want to end up falling to the floor face first. His head still ached because the aspirin would need time to take effect.  He hadn’t undressed before collapsing to the unmade bed, so he yanked off his jacket, throwing it to the floor as he made his way over to the bathroom.  A long, hot shower would clear out the cobwebs. Sobering up would probably take longer.

The water out of the showerhead that felt like pins and needles were making their way into his skin instead of warming him up.  He groaned out in pain, hoping that the feeling would go away in a few moments.  Washing the grime away would help, he knew. He’d done it enough to know what would work for him.

His body finally relaxed, the pins and needles feeling fading away. He grabbed the first bottle he could find and poured a generous amount in his hand.  Dammit, it was Sophie’s.  He scrubbed as hard as he could, attempting to take away the smell of alcohol from his head.  It helped, but now he smelled like jasmine.  He looked at the next bottle, finding his shampoo instead of her expensive floral smelling stuff.  He may have to smell like her body, but he most certainly did not want to smell like her shampoo for the rest of the day.  Once his hair was done, the smell of whiskey faded from his body, but not his mind. That would never fade.  It was imprinted on his brain, like an old friend.  That’s the way he treated it when he wasn’t drinking. The smell would take him back, soothe him. Now it just made him angry.

Once he got the next job going, he knew he had a few things to accomplish. More sleep, more information on Latimer, and an apology to Sophie, not in any particular order, although getting more sleep before apologizing to Sophie might be a better plan.  He was surprised that she hadn’t shown up, cold water in hand to throw in his face if need be.  She hadn’t though, which probably meant she was ticked off. The next briefing was going to be rough, just for him.

He needed coffee. Once he had coffee, his brain would start working again. All he could do was stare at the tiled wall, breathing in and out. That’s all the effort he could put in right then.

The last time he’d gotten a good night’s sleep had been the week before, right after coming back from Cincinnati.  He thought that his brain would not have shut down, after having to deal with that old man and the kid that needed the heart.  But he slept, after being up more than twenty-four hours, but he had slept.  That one was rough. Sophie had been right. She was always right.

Now he was operating on empty.  A few hours of sleep, no food to speak of, too much alcohol, his body couldn’t take much more.  Every time he tried to close his eyes, all he could see were those machines, hooked up to that little boy. That little boy had survived, that heart barely getting there in time.  The sound of the machines haunted him ever since they arrived back. Then the anniversary hit him like a freight train.

After what seemed like an hour, Nate turned off the now cooling water of  the shower.  As he slowly ran the towel through his hair, he knew that the others were probably waiting for him, but he kept putting off going down those stairs.  They wouldn’t say anything about how he looked or if they did, it would be a joke or two.  Eliot would critically look him over but would keep his mouth shut.  Parker would quip back to him that he was super hung over.  Hardison would just shake his head, but then hand him the day’s briefing in paper form. Sophie would hand him his coffee and the day would begin.

Why did he not want this day to begin?  Wrapping the towel around his waist, he opened the door of the steamed room, contemplating what might be clean. Before he even got to his dresser, he found Sophie sitting politely on the edge of his bed.

Oh boy. The shit was about to hit the fan and he hadn’t even had his coffee yet. His stamina to put up with this shit was at less than zero.

Instead of laying into him, she handed him a large cup with steaming coffee. Not a word was said while he took that first sip, the warmth and bitterness a welcome comfort. Luckily the aspirins had started to work their magic.

“You’re here early,” he croaked out, voice shot all to hell.

“Actually, it’s after eleven.”

He’d been in that shower longer than he thought.

“Oh. Something that you want?”

“Just making sure that you were alive.”

So they thought he was up here passed out?

“Barely.”

“I sent them home.  It didn’t look like any of them had a good night, so I thought a down day would help.”

It irked him that she took charge, but he wasn’t in any shape to say otherwise. 

“No sleep?”

“Hardison was sleeping at his desk. Eliot looked like hell and Parker wasn’t all that interested in breakfast, although Eliot did make her eat before he left.  I’m not sure how much sleep Hardison has had in the last few days, so I told him to not come back until he could actually form a coherent sentence and not smell like orange soda.  Preferably both done.  Eliot grabbed the two of them after feeding them. I trust that he’ll see to it.  Not sure whether he’ll take my advice though.”

“And what might that advice be?”

“Twenty-four hours. No cases. No worrying about what we can’t control.  Sleep. It seems that I am the only one around here that values sleep.”

What she was saying was completely true. 

“We have, we had, I thought we needed…”

With each phrase, Sophie’s eyes narrowed on his, telling him he needed to choose his words wisely. He couldn’t even think straight much less choose words that wouldn’t piss her off.

“Understand that whatever you say, it won’t matter.”

“Matter?”

“You’re trying to think of something to piss me off so that I’ll leave. It won’t work.”

Oh damn, she knew him too well.

“Then what would you like me to say?”

“Good boy. Nothing actually.  I brought toast and jam until your stomach settles. Then there are leftovers from Eliot.”

Sophie picked up a cup of tea that she had placed on his bedside table, or should he say hers since that was the side of the bed she preferred.

“Well?”

Rubbing his hand over his face, he then took another long drink of the coffee. 

“Alright. I’ll keep my mouth shut.”

“Nate, that’s not what I had intended.  If what you need is to rant, then please feel free.  But do not start a fight with me just to get rid of me. I’m here.”

“You are.”

She hadn’t left yet. He was the one who left last night, not sure why but for the fact that he knew he had made a mistake acting like that around her.

“Bad night.”

“I know.”

He noticed the toast on his side of the bed. Once he had a slice in his hand and had downed half of it, his stomach seemed to quieten down.  Finishing two, he took another sip of coffee, closing his eyes at the quietness of the apartment. It usually was loud at this time of the day, particularly if there was a new job on the horizon. It felt good to not have to deal with the other three. They certainly took a lot of energy to deal with on a daily basis.

He wouldn’t have it any other way.

Sitting with his back to Sophie, he sipped a bit more of the bitter brew that she always made, trying to figure out what to say to her next.  She was right, yet again.  If he took his time and contemplated what he was going to say to her next after an episode like the one the night before, it might turn out better for him. She understood sincerity.  She hated it when he pushed her away.

“I’m sorry.”

He felt the bed move just a little on her side, but he still didn’t turn around. She had dressed comfortably that day, leggings and a sweater.  He could smell that jasmine, but was that him? No, that was her because she was now directly behind him.  Her fingers slowly carded through his hair, untangling it since he’d forgotten to run a comb through it.  It would be wild and unruly, just the way his thoughts were right then. He just didn’t know where to start with her.

“I know,” she whispered in his ear.

 

“Sleep.”

“I can’t sleep.”

“Yes, you can.”

“Will you two just shut the hell up?”

Hardison was in the middle, attempting to quieten the other two so he could get some damn sleep.

“I’m not tired,” Parker whined.

“Yes, you are,” Eliot answered.

“Ok, ok.  One last time, if y’all are gonna be here, there’s gonna be sleeping. No whining, no grumping, no nothing,” Hardison urged.

“Yeah,” Parker agreed.

“I guess,” Eliot finished.

“I haven’t slept in almost forty-eight hours.”

“You were asleep when I got to Nate’s place this morning,” Eliot reminded the hacker.

“It was just a cat nap.”

“Hey, cats sleep all day and night. Why is it called a cat nap?”

“Parker,” both the guys grumped.

“Well.”

Hardison took one hand and placed it over Eliot’s mouth. The other hand landed on Parker’s nose, but she got the idea.

“Stop it,” Eliot growled.

“That’s my nose.”

“Shhh.”

Soon he was off to dreamland, where his two best friends were happy and healthy and were sleeping without bad dreams. If he had to kill every single last person on earth to achieve that, then so be it.

 


End file.
